


You Are Not Alone

by Anonymous



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Other, did someone say father wilbur?, this takes place right after schlatt exiled them btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: how do you deal with being exiled? hell if wilbur knows, but he’s not alone. he has tommy, who’s for once being logical enough to rectify the bad in the situation.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66
Collections: Anonymous





	You Are Not Alone

It all happened so fast. They lost, Schlatt took the podium, Tubbo went up beside him. Beside that traitor. He gazed down at them from up high; a sense of duty, and a sense of dreadful remorse. L’Manberg was gone, now. In the hands of a ruler who would only abuse it, Wilbur knew. But he never could have expected being exiled. 

The air was cold, and Wilbur stuffed his hands in his trench coat pockets, able to see his breath in hot puffs of steam trailing from his mouth. His gaze was cast downwards, and even the tips of his ears, covered by a protective beanie, were still cool. The walk was silent, aside from the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs against their boots. 

Wilbur would’ve been content sitting in silence for the rest of his days, letting his brain trail down rabbit hole after rabbit hole, walking until his legs gave out from under him. He was completely stuck in the moment, the dream-like state of shock. It was only Tommy’s voice that sent him hurling back to reality.

“Wilbur, what do we do now?”

Wilbur’s head lifted, ever so slightly, and his gaze turned to the shivering child beside him. Still stuck in his head, for a moment, it wasn’t Tommy he saw. It was Fundy, his son. His son, tearing down L’Manberg, betraying him, too, and ruling under Schlatt. Fundy’s trembling form beside him was the spark that lit the flame of desire to build L’Manberg in the first place. To keep Fundy safe. Safe from war, safe from the overbearing tyranny of Dream, but in the end... he’d realized that Fundy must’ve felt betrayed, too. His own father cared more for a country than he did his own flesh and blood, to the point it ruined him. 

“Wilbur?”

He blinked, rooting himself back in the present again. His eyes scanned Tommy’s face, taking in the blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and, most notably, the lack of fox-like features. He noted the chattering teeth accessorized with braces, the fingers rather than paws that wrapped around his small form to preserve any inch of warmth. Wilbur had always been a silent figure when it mattered most, caught up in his head, thinking and thinking until it destroyed him. 

Perhaps that, too, is why his son turned his back to him.

And he was doing it now, too. Tommy looked to him for answers, and he remained silent, walking forward to god knows where. Tommy clung to him, looked to him for guidance for his very life. He knew Tommy was on his side for the long haul, the ride or die. And where he had failed Fundy, he was failing him, too. 

Without thinking, he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Tommy’s shaking shoulders with what he hoped was a comforting pat. “We walk, Tommy,” he found his voice again, raspy from lack of use. He cleared it and tried again. “We walk until we can’t anymore, and then we hole up for the night and see what happens. We build a fire in a cave, somewhere near a stream for water and a food source, and we survive.”

Tommy wrapped the jacket around himself, trying to keep the ends of it from dragging along in the snow behind him. “So that’s it, then? We’re... really here? We’re alone?”

Wilbur swallowed dryly, raising an arm to brace his face from the sting of cold wind against his cheeks. “We’re alone, Tommy,” he spoke lowly. “No one is coming to care for us, but us.”

Tommy looked down at the snow, continuing to walk. It was silent again for a long time, and this time, Wilbur moved from the dark pit of self-pity, and moved to primal instincts. He failed Fundy. He was in the process of failing Tommy. But, he had hope that things could be redeemed somehow. 

Here was where it mattered most. Wilbur would take care of Tommy as his own, if it killed him. He scoped every inch of area, looking for a stream with clean, cold water, and some food source. Rabbits, plants, other animals, anything that was small and could be stored in the cold. He’d found berries, giving them to Tommy to settle his grumbling stomach. Tommy hadn’t needed to say anything, Wilbur could hear it from behind him. It made his heart ache that Tommy didn’t even speak up about the hunger that he was sure was nagging at him.

When his foot suddenly became colder than it had been moments ago, he glanced down to find himself ankle deep in a shallow stream with relatively clear water with small fish. Perfect. They were surrounded by trees, so firewood wouldn’t be a problem if they could find branches or parts of the logs that weren’t wet from the blanket of snow coating everything. Now all that’s left, was...

“Wilbur, a c-cave!” Tommy stuttered out, still shivering and teeth clanking from the cold, yet quieted some since Wilbur offered his jacket. Wilbur’s head swiveled to the direction Tommy was pointing, and sighed in relief, feeling the hot breath against the tip of his nose. Thank god.

“Let me go first,” Wilbur spoke up, stepping on front of Tommy. “There might be something hostile in it.”

“Then we do it together, Wilby,” Tommy stepped up to stand beside him again, reaching up for his hand with cold fingers and squeezing gently. “Always together. We’ll survive together.”

Wilbur felt his hand gently squeezed, and he smiled the tiniest bit. It helped ease the dull ache of loneliness in his chest. He squeezed Tommy’s hand in return, and after a deep breath, they entered the cave together. 

It was small, and after a thorough inspection, was proven to be empty. They flopped down on the cold stone ground and took a deep breath. Shelter, water nearby as well as a few different food source variants... everything was fine. Now, to make the fire. 

He glanced around, picking up a few twigs and rocks from around the cave, as well as some dry brush and leaves. He set them all up in a surrounding circle of rock, before beginning to try to spark the rocks. He struck the rock against the other, and the sound resounded in his brain like the sound of two axes colliding. His gaze hardens, and he hits the two together, harder. A struggle. Metal grinding on metal, hopelessness filling his heart as he realizes he’s losing the war. Another hit. A spark. A spark that started a flame, an angry, hungry flame of war. Staring into two black dots and a mocking grin of Dream’s mask, knowing he’s going to lose to the man of which he’s never even seen the face of. Another hit-

“Wilbur, Wilbur...” Tommy’s voice cut through the noise, and Wilbur hadn’t realized he’d been breathing quick, sharp breaths. His head snapped over to Tommy, and Tommy raised his hands before gently setting one atop Wilbur’s. “Let me.”

Wilbur gave a small nod, offering him the rocks, but Tommy shook his head. He picked up a twig, putting it against the dry brush and rubbing his hands back and forth, making the stick rub in quick, hot circles. After a minute or two, there was a soft, dim glow that began lighting up the space around them. Tommy gave a triumphant grin, beginning to blow against the embers and gently adding more fuel to catch flame. 

Wilbur watched in silent astonishment. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“A camp I went to when I was little. Learned a lot of random survival facts there. Thought it was useless, back then, but...” Tommy trailed off, but Wilbur picked up what was implied with a small nod and a gaze away. 

The flame grew, beginning to chase the cold darkness away. Wilbur put his hands out, rubbing them together to warm himself. “It’s a good thing one of us here knows what we’re doing,” he gave a humorless bark of a laugh, and Tommy offered a sympathetic smile. 

Another long stretch of silence. Right before Wilbur could drift back into his mind, Tommy cut through again. “What’re you thinking about?”

What a loaded question.

Wilbur took a moment to think, before letting out a small sigh. “...about how I failed,” he said bluntly with a small shrug. “Failed L’Manberg, failed... Fundy, my son, failed my father, definitely... I’ve failed, and I don’t know how to rectify it. I-I don’t even know if I can rectify this much damage.”

Tommy shook his head. “Wilbur, you didn’t fail anyone--”

“How did I not, Tommy?” Wilbur looked at him with sharp eyes that seemed to cut right through the younger one, but underneath was a thin veil of desperation. Tell me that I didn’t fail. Prove me wrong. “How did I not completely and utterly fuck this all up?”

“Because we’re still here, Wilbur. We’re still together. There’s still hope. With a strong leader like you, I know that we can get L’Manberg back! Tubbo’s still back there, he can help, you know he’ll help! We aren’t two against the world, Wilby. We can do this,” Tommy reassured, moving a hand to his shoulder. 

“I was supposed to be there for my son,” Wilbur croaked, voice breaking. “And now I’ve betrayed him for a country that was never my own. A country that was an idea, never coming to fruition. An unfinished symphony that will never receive the conductor’s end.” Wilbur spoke slowly and shakily. “I can handle being a failure in every other department. But Fundy needed me. He needed a strong father. I built those walls to protect him, I never wanted this...”

“Where you lost one son, Wilbur...” Tommy offered a small smile, “you gained another. You know I’d do anything for you. I’m with you ‘til the end, Wilbur. Independence, or die. Right?”

Wilbur gazed into stormy blue eyes, before a small smile spread across his lips. “Right.”

Tommy grinned, leaning back against the wall and cracking his knuckles. "Then let's fuck 'em up."


End file.
